


White Is Actually the Devil’s Color

by Vanui



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanui/pseuds/Vanui
Summary: The weather, as always, is unpredictable.Basically, they get wet and bothered.





	White Is Actually the Devil’s Color

The weather, as always, is unpredictable.

Except not really.

10% chance of rain, her phone app had said, but in a moment of carelessness, she hadn’t noticed the last time the app updated was last week.

So really, the weather is predictable, but the fault lies with her for incorrectly predicting it.

She stares forlornly at the smiling sun displayed in the app, then fiddles with the wet screen of her phone and puts it into her pocket. Wiping sopping bangs from her eyes, she sighs up at the leafy canopy above their heads, feeling stray drops drip down from their cover and splash onto her face as she contemplates their predicament.

A cold breeze blows through the forest, and her companion shivers from where she’s seated on a gnarled tree root. Soon after, she sneezes.

Umi turns to her, fully prepared to apologize and beg her forgiveness, but the sight that meets her eyes gives her shocked pause and erases any semblance of coherent thought. Her mouth runs dry.

In comparison, her friend is completely soaked to the bone. Not a strange fact considering they’re both drenched from a torrent of water droplets, so her friend is, of course, extremely wet, but Umi had been too preoccupied with finding shelter to notice that her friend is not only wet, but also wearing a white t-shirt, completely normal for a hiking trip, but, well, that is, um–

“Red,” she weakly exhales by accident. The second she does so, her face explodes in heat, then Maki turns to her with perplexed violet eyes and Umi feels the heat tickle the tips of her ears.

“What, my hair?” comes the confused retort. Almost as if to demonstrate her point, she brings a finger up and twirls the ends of her hair in a practiced gesture.

Umi scrambles for words, which is a much simpler task to do on paper than with her mouth. “Well, yes, your hair is red, well, not as red as usual, since it’s so dark, but, that is, um, because you’re w-wet,” she blurts out, saying everything that travels through her mind and doing her best to not stare at the source of her panic. Which is a hard task considering her back has locked into place and her neck is rigidly refusing to move.

Maki squints at her, then glances down at the strands of hair around her fingers. Her eyes immediately widen once she catches a glimpse of her chest.

“Oh,” is all she says in a quiet, quiet voice.

That’s when her face blooms into a shade of red, redder than the red of…

…her bra.

Her very visible bra beneath the wet, wrinkly surface of her white shirt that clings to her body and reveals more than the skin underneath and the curves that wouldn’t have been accentuated otherwise, because Umi certainly hadn’t noticed them when they’d first met up and started this trip because well, they weren’t wet at the start of it, and besides she had no reason to look in the first place, and she would never do something as indecent as oggle…

An extremely helpful part of her brain supplies the fact that she is oggling right now.

The noise that escapes her lips is reminiscent of a soul leaving one’s body.

Immediately, Maki lets out a horrified shriek, slaps her arms over her chest and scoots away from Umi, futilely trying to cover up the problem and bringing herself closer to the rain waiting outside the edges of the tree’s canopy.

Umi sees the potential disaster right before the situation plays out.

Almost in slow motion, the heel of Maki’s shoe slips with a squelch in mud, and as the tree root is not so wide or long, Maki is left off balance from her sudden movement and careening dangerously backwards, heading towards what is certain freezing hell caked onto her back and hair if she falls into it.

Luckily, Umi’s already in motion before she’s halfway to the ground. Straining her shoulders and core, she throws an arm behind Maki’s soaking back, carefully angling her kneeling stance so that she doesn’t end up faceplanting into the mud herself, and tries to hold Maki upright, bringing her body close. Unfortunately, given the way they’re positioned, Umi’s face ends up pressed… right beneath the sopping wet bra, right on her friend’s warm sternum. The red material makes her go cross-eyed, and as her brain malfunctions, her right knee slips, and then they’re both tumbling for the ground when instincts kick in and Umi thrusts her free arm out.

Maki yelps.

Umi grimaces as her hand splats and sinks into slimy, cold mud.

Shoulders shaking from the strength required to hold them up at such an odd angle, Umi does her best not to look at or breathe into the warm, moist material of her friend’s shirt and the pink skin beneath, instead focusing on keeping them afloat with only one arm firmly entrenched in muck, the viscous dirt sliding disgustingly between her fingers and underneath her nails, but hey, if there’s one good thing to come from this, it’s that mud is a surprisingly effective way to get turned off.

Almost as if fate wants to spite her, Maki takes a deep breath, pressing skin through shirt right into Umi’s nose and cheeks, wet and warm and wayward — “U-Umi,” her friend breathlessly moans, clutching at Umi’s shoulder, the tips of her fingers digging into muscle.

Suddenly, the mud isn’t as effective anymore.

“S-Stop breathing so heavily on my stomach!” Maki tries to protest, but it comes out as meek and weak, and her other hand clutches at Umi’s bicep. “Get us upright, p-please!”

Umi’s lips try to work to say, “I’m trying!”, but what comes out is a strangled gasp as she does her best to push off the ground with one arm, digging her fingers even further into the mud to prevent them from slipping.

The action has her pressing her face even more firmly into Maki and leaves her friend gasping for air too, her abdominal muscles flexing visibly beneath her shirt.

Swallowing thickly, her heartbeat roars in her ears.

The adrenaline boost from such a sight finally gives her the strength to bring them upright, so she pushes, slowly, carefully, trembling from the effort, and once Maki is firmly seated back on the tree root does Umi untangle herself quickly and nearly slip and fall backwards in her haste.

They’re both panting despite the fact it’s Umi who strained all her muscles to save them.

They’re also both tomato red, and when their eyes meet, the tomato pallors quickly turn to scarlet.

Umi’s not sure which one of them looks away first, since they both turn away rapidly after the fact, but once they do, neither of them can muster up the courage to say anything or even attempt looking at the other for the slightest glimpse. She’s terrified just seeing Maki again will bring up the unbearably pleasant sensations from her sopping wet–

“Thank you,” she hears over the thundering of heartbeats in her ears, over the steady whooshing of rain outside the canopy. “For, um, yeah…”

Umi is unbearably, infuriatingly hot.

Hoarsely, she croaks, “You’re… welcome…” back.

They don’t speak another word to each other for the rest of the day.

Though the rain doesn’t stop for hours after that, Umi can’t help but bitterly think that no amount of rain in the world could cool the fire raging in her body while they sat in tense, muggy silence.

She decides then and there that she’s never going anywhere without updating her weather app, and grabbing an umbrella, a rainproof jacket, and a spare shirt that isn’t white, ever again.

Not that she believes Maki will go on another hiking trip with her after today.

Wiping her mudcaked hand off on her pants leg, she solemnly contemplates how she’s even going to be able to bring Maki home at this rate without spontaneously combusting into a pile of nothingness.

…

I wonder where mother keeps the ceremonial sword, she thinks, then internally cries.

…

Unbeknownst to Umi, Maki is having just as much trouble cooling herself off despite the incessant rain and soaked clothing, but her thought process from there is a little less bleak than her friend’s. Instead, she’s actually contemplating the most effective way to sucker Umi into giving her a piggyback ride at some point, just so she can feel those shoulder muscles again.

Next time they go hiking, though, she’s making sure she’s not wearing a single article of bright clothing.

Not unless she’s wearing something nice and maybe lacy, and not a red sports bra, despite the fact her brain is telling her it’ll be uncomfortable and painful, but if Umi is this flustered by just a sports bra, well…

Her lips curl at the thought.


End file.
